I am reading myths in the meadow
In the last of the September sun,
When the tree's shadow crawls
Across the clearing
And hovers at my feet.
I rise to go, book closed.
But now is the time
Of the swallow -
I stand still
And water rats and robins appear
So I stay to hear
The animal stories of dusk
Told by the earth itself.
Copyright LJ 2020
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